Linda's Literary Home

Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Conrad Siever”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters http://www.jackmasters.net/mastelm.html Jack Masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Jack Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Conrad Siever”

    Conrad Siever contrasts his feelings for two distinctive segments of his land: the part with the cemetery he finds “wasted”; but he loved the acres that held his apple tree and lovingly nurtured that tree in life and continues to do so even after death. 

    Introduction and Text of “Conrad Siever”

    The speaker of Edgar Lee Masters’ “Conrad Siever” from Spoon River Anthology is contrasting his feelings for the acres of his property where a cemetery is located with those acres that hold his prized apple tree.    

    Siever’s property is mentioned in two other Spoon River poems; in “Hare Drummer,” Hare asks if the young folk “still go to Siever’s / For cider, after school.”  Also in the epitaph,”Amelia Garrick,” Amelia refers to Siever’s woods, “Where the thickets from Siever’s woods / Have crept over.”  Thus, the reader infers that Conrad Siever owned many acres of land.

    The structure of this poem presents two movements that basically offer the theme of “not there, but here.” The first movement dramatizes the speaker’s negative or “not there” rubric; he did not love the part of his property that tendered certain features.  

    The second movement dramatizes the “but here” or positive part of the construction, which is the section of his land that he loved and attended to in life and seemingly continues to do so in death.

    Conrad Siever

    Not in that wasted garden
    Where bodies are drawn into grass
    That feeds no flocks, and into evergreens
    That bear no fruit—
    There where along the shaded walks
    Vain sighs are heard,
    And vainer dreams are dreamed
    Of close communion with departed souls—
    But here under the apple tree
    I loved and watched and pruned
    With gnarled hands
    In the long, long years;
    Here under the roots of this northern-spy
    To move in the chemic change and circle of life,
    Into the soil and into the flesh of the tree,
    And into the living epitaphs
    Of redder apples!

    Commentary on “Conrad Siever”

    Conrad Siever loved his apple tree and lovingly nurtured it in life and death.  

    First Movement:   Fruitless Evergreens

    Not in that wasted garden
    Where bodies are drawn into grass
    That feeds no flocks, and into evergreens
    That bear no fruit—
    There where along the shaded walks
    Vain sighs are heard,
    And vainer dreams are dreamed
    Of close communion with departed souls—

    Despite his owning considerable property, Siever begins with a negative assertion that he did not take his essential being in “that wasted garden,” where despite the continued interest of other people, there is no food for “flocks” and where fruitless evergreens abide. 

    He points out that that wasted garden strikes him as rather useless, where “vain sighs are heard,” and he adds that even “vainer dreams are dreamed.”  He is revealing that the part of  his property that includes a cemetery is where those vain dreamers come to attempt “close communion with departed souls.”

    Siever first concentrates on the part of his land that he finds least useful and therefore least important.  By beginning with a sort of condemnation of uselessness, he thereby emphasizes his interest in productive endeavors, which he finds important, much more significant than the land that merely hold the bodies of dead folks.

    Second Movement:  Not There, but Here

    But here under the apple tree
    I loved and watched and pruned
    With gnarled hands
    In the long, long years;
    Here under the roots of this northern-spy
    To move in the chemic change and circle of life,
    Into the soil and into the flesh of the tree,
    And into the living epitaphs
    Of redder apples!

    Siever has remarked that it is not to those useless parts of his property that he was attached but instead to “here under the apple tree.”  It was in this place that the speaker  afforded his affection for his property; he worked on his apple tree, pruning and tending to its needs, even as his hands became “gnarled,” likely causing pain during his hard labor.  Obviously, Siever’s real love and occupation was for his apple tree; thus, he tended it with great care and affection.

    Now Siever is buried under his beloved “northern-spy,” specifically and more importantly, “under the roots.” And he attests that he is still attending to his former occupation.  His spirit is now able to “move in the chemic change and circle of life.” That spirit circulates “into the soil and into the flesh of the tree.”  

    Siever dramatically and triumphantly announces that just as when alive he strove to produce better apples, his spirit is now accomplishing the same goal as it pushes itself “into the living epitaphs / Of redder apples!”

    Siever has shown that he bestowed his love and attention upon the fertile, apple-growing segment of his land.  Instead of “epitaphs” of dead people, he continues to grow living reports of useful fruit as he continues to pursue “redder apples.”  

    He is demonstrating that his loving interest was in useful, productive activity, rather than dreaming and sighing and eternal waiting.  Even in death, his strong spirit continues his dedication to caring for his apple producing tree.

  • City Boy 

    249a Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem.jpg
    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem

    City Boy

    what she got for marrying the devil . . .    

    He was a peacock about his manhood,
    Measured his mind by the length of it.
    He was kicked out of high school but cut his wisdom
    Teeth on the Encyclopædia Britannica.
    He went to tell President Nixon
    How to run the country,
    And ended up in jail—in Wyoming.

    He told stories about planting his seed, 
    Claimed he was directed
    By an expert in eugenics. Threatened
    To incest his own daughter.
    But his head served as a block of meat
    His co-workers at the wire factory
    Would slice off at the lunch break..

    His mother was a gentle, efficient woman.
    His father was just gentle.
    But his brothers were determined
    To shit in every yard in the north end.

    He gave people the creeps.
    He was too self-slung to know.
    Narcissus breathed on his mirror.
    He made people cringe:  like when
    He took pictures of his sister in her coffin—
    The sister he told his brothers only he could satisfy.
    He wanted to remember her before she rotted…
    One can only guess…the way you remember 
    Road kill before it goes to flies.

    A slightly different version of appears in my collection Turtle Woman & Other Poems

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Hare Drummer”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://www.best-poems.net/edgar_lee_masters/index.html#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Hare Drummer”

    ”Hare Drummer” portrays beautiful memories of pastoral scenery.

    Introduction and Text of “Hare Drummer” 

    Hare Drummer asks a series of questions, seeking to learn how things have continued on after his death.  That question format is reminiscent of A. E. Housman’s “Is my team ploughing,”  in which a dead man asks for a report about how things are going now that he has died.

    Hare Drummer

    Do the boys and girls still go to Siever’s  
    For cider, after school, in late September?
    Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets  
    On Aaron Hatfield’s farm when the frosts begin?
    For many times with the laughing girls and boys
    Played I along the road and over the hills
    When the sun was low and the air was cool,  
    Stopping to club the walnut tree  
    Standing leafless against a flaming west.
    Now, the smell of the autumn smoke,
    And the dropping acorns,
    And the echoes about the vales
    Bring dreams of life. They hover over me.
    They question me:  
    Where are those laughing comrades?
    How many are with me, how many
    In the old orchards along the way to Siever’s,  
    And in the woods that overlook  
    The quiet water?

    Interpretive Reading 

    Commentary on “Hare Drummer”

    Hare Drummer poses a series of questions about what life has been like for those who have lived on after he died. 

    First Movement:  Does Life Go On After? 

    Do the boys and girls still go to Siever’s  
    For cider, after school, in late September?
    Or gather hazel nuts among the thickets  
    On Aaron Hatfield’s farm when the frosts begin?

    Hare begins by asking if the young folk “still go to Siever’s / For cider, after school, in late September?”  He continues with his second question, asking if they still “gather hazel nuts among the thickets” on the farm owned by Aaron Hatfield “when the frost begins.”

    Hare’s purpose in questioning seems quite innocent, as if he is merely curious about the continuation of life as he had seen it.  And his questions and comments simply paint a portrait of simple, pastoral life including farms, hills, trees, cold weather, and “quiet water.”

    Second Movement:  Down Memory Lane

    For many times with the laughing girls and boys
    Played I along the road and over the hills
    When the sun was low and the air was cool,  
    Stopping to club the walnut tree  
    Standing leafless against a flaming west.

    Hare then offers the explanation that he had accompanied “the laughing girls and boys” as they all “played [ ] along the road and over the hills.”  He remembers how they would knock down walnuts from the tree which stood “leafless against the flaming west.”

    Third Movement:  The Smell of Autumn Smoke

    Now, the smell of the autumn smoke,
    And the dropping acorns,
    And the echoes about the vales
    Bring dreams of life. They hover over me.

    Intimating that he now smells “autumn smoke” and acorns drop on his grave, he dramatizes how “echoes about the vales / Bring dreams of life.”  His  memory abounds with sights and sounds that he experienced when he was alive.  These dreams and experiences “hover over me,” he asserts.

    Fourth Movement:  Questioned by Phantoms

    They question me:  
    Where are those laughing comrades?
    How many are with me, how many
    In the old orchards along the way to Siever’s,  
    And in the woods that overlook  
    The quiet water? 

    And just as Hare questions some phantom audience, he is questioned by the same phantoms.  They want to know how many of his former playmates are with him and how many are still making their way through “the old orchards along the way to Siever’s.”  And he also wonders how many still visit “the woods that overlook / The quiet water.”

     Edgar Lee Masters - Commemorative Stamp
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Commemorative Stamp
  • A.E. Housman’s Poem XXVII “Is my team ploughing”

    Image:  A. E. Housman Photo by Hulton-Deutsch/Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/a-e-housman
    Image: A. E. Housman Photo by Hulton-Deutsch/Hulton-Deutsch Collection/Corbis via Getty Images 

    A.E. Housman’s Poem XXVII “Is my team ploughing”

    Two speakers appear in A. E. Housman’s “Is my team ploughing”:  one a dead man, the other his living friend.  The dead man asks for a report about how things are going now that he has died.

    Introduction and Text of  “Is my team ploughing”

    A E. Housman’s “Is my team ploughing” (XXVII) appears in A Shropshire Lad, the poet’s well-known, somewhat autobiographical collection.  In the poem, a deceased man questions a living friend about various aspects of their life together before the dead man died.

    The eight stanzas are sectioned into question and response, similar to an interview, with the dead man beginning with a question.  The dead man’s questions appear in quotation marks, followed by the living friend’s response without quotation marks.

    XXVII Is my team ploughing

    “Is my team ploughing,
       That I was used to drive
    And hear the harness jingle
       When I was man alive?” 

    Ay, the horses trample,
       The harness jingles now;
    No change though you lie under
       The land you used to plough. 

    “Is football playing
       Along the river shore,
    With lads to chase the leather,
       Now I stand up no more?” 

    Ay the ball is flying,
       The lads play heart and soul;
    The goal stands up, the keeper
       Stands up to keep the goal. 

    “Is my girl happy,
       That I thought hard to leave,
    And has she tired of weeping
       As she lies down at eve?” 

    Ay, she lies down lightly,
       She lies not down to weep:
    Your girl is well contented.
       Be still, my lad, and sleep. 

    “Is my friend hearty,
       Now I am thin and pine,
    And has he found to sleep in
       A better bed than mine?” 

    Yes, lad, I lie easy,
       I lie as lads would choose;
    I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart,
       Never ask me whose.

    Commentary on “Is my team ploughing”

    Two speakers appear in these lines: one a dead man, the other his living friend.  The dead man asks for a report about how things are going now that he has died.

    First Stanza:  The Dead Man Asks a Question

    “Is my team ploughing,
       That I was used to drive
    And hear the harness jingle
       When I was man alive?”

    The dead man begins by asking a question of his friend who is still alive. The deceased wishes to find out if his team of horses that he employed in ploughing his fields is still performing that function.

    Therefore he puts the question to his friend: “Is my team ploughing?” Continuing he adds, “That I used to drive, / And hear the harness jingle.” The dead speaker, no longer possessing the capability of tilling his farm fields, nor of listening to the jingling of the horses’ harnesses, seeks answers to the mystery of how those still living are functioning now that the deceased is no longer “man alive.”

    Second Stanzas:  The Living Man Responds

    Ay, the horses trample,
       The harness jingles now;
    No change though you lie under
       The land you used to plough.

    The friend immediately responds that the horses are indeed continuing to plough and their harnesses are still making their jingling sounds.  Life has continued on as before the deceased became deceased.  Everything goes on as it did before the poor dead farmer’s body was placed “under / The land [he] used to plough.”

    Third Stanza:  No Longer Able to Play

    “Is football playing
       Along the river shore,
    With lads to chase the leather,
       Now I stand up no more?”

    The dead speaker then wants to know if their other friends are still playing football; he shows that he remembers where they used to play, adding the colorful fact of the boys chasing the ball as they played their game.

    He emphasizes his current status to his living friend that he can no long join in the game. He makes sure the friend does not forget that being dead he can no longer play and enjoy himself as he did before.

    Fourth Stanzas:  Contrast Between the Living and the Dead

    Ay the ball is flying,
       The lads play heart and soul;
    The goal stands up, the keeper
       Stands up to keep the goal.

    The friend then responds that yes the boys are still playing their lively game. He stresses his positive answer, saying, the goal is still in place and the goalie still performs his task in the game.  By repeating the term “stands” the speaker emphasizes the contrast between the living players and the deceased questioner who can no longer “stand.”

    Fifth Stanza:  Hated to Leave His Sweetheart

    “Is my girl happy,
       That I thought hard to leave,
    And has she tired of weeping
       As she lies down at eve?”

    The dead man then queries after his girlfriend.  He hated having to leave her, and he says, he  “thought hard” on the issue.  He wonders if she has ceased mourning the loss of him, as he surmises that his sweetheart would have bitterly mourned his passing and that she might still be in mourning for him.

    Sixth Stanza:   A Well-Satisfied Sweetheart

    Ay, she lies down lightly,
       She lies not down to weep:
    Your girl is well contented.
       Be still, my lad, and sleep.

    However, the friend assures the dead man that the sweetheart is well satisfied, and as she lies down in bed at night, she is not pining nor shedding tears.  This turning point reveals that the friend may not be such a good friend to the dead man as it might have seemed;  the living friend knows too much about the sweetheart and has revealed to the dead man more than the poor fool would have wanted to know.

    Seventh Stanza:  His Hearty Friend

    “Is my friend hearty,
       Now I am thin and pine,
    And has he found to sleep in
       A better bed than mine?”

    The dead speaker then poses a final question about his friend, the one he has been interviewing all along. The dead man asks if his friend is “hearty,” as he once again emphasizes his own status as a dead man.  Instead of “hearty,” he is “thin and pine.” Thus he asks if the still living friend has found a better place to sleep than the grave.  Is it possible that the dead already knows, or suspects, the answer to that question?

    Eighth Stanza:  Quite Well and Sleeping Well

    Yes, lad, I lie easy,
       I lie as lads would choose;
    I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart,
       Never ask me whose.

    The living friend then assures his dead friend that he is quite well, and he sleeps well.  And he adds, “I cheer a dead man’s sweetheart.”  When the living friend, who has usurped the place of the dead man with the latter’s sweetheart, adds, “Never ask me whose,” the questioning does cease.

    But how likely is it that the dead man does not already have the answers to all of his questions?  The dead man’s questions seem to elicit responses that unveil the treachery of his so-called living friend.  Such an examination of possibilities places before the minds of readers and listeners the unending route of knowledge, experience, and truth that does not end with death.

    The Extended Paradox of a Dead Man Speaking

    Readers of A.E. Housman’s “Is my team ploughing” may react to the implausibility of a dead man holding a conversation with a living man.  That reaction will depend on how literally one takes the conversation.  Obviously, a literal conversation is impossible; thus, one must consider the fact that the conversation itself is a figure of speech, an extended paradox. 

    Paradoxes, which at first seem absurd, are justified upon further explanation.  But how does one justify a conversation between a dead man and a living man?  Only the living man can be offering a report of this conversation; thus, the dead man’s part of the conversation is also coming from the mind of the living man.  But why would a living man hold such a conversation, even if imaginary? 

    The answer is that the living man is being tormented with guilt at the way he treated the dead man while the latter was living, and now that his so-called friend is dead, he is committing the ultimate sin against their friendship by taking his place with the dead man’s sweetheart.  The living friend is merely attempting to assuage his own guilty conscience by holding the imaginary conversation in which he seems to be attempting  to solace his former friend.  

    Image:  Sketch of A. E. Housman by Francis Dodd  https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw03269/AE-Housman National Portrait Gallery, Image:  Sketch of A. E. Housman by Francis Dodd  https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw03269/AE-Housman National Portrait Gallery, London
    Image: Sketch of A. E. Housman by Francis Dodd National Portrait Gallery, London
  • Primal Mud 

    Primal Mud 

    “How can sense slaves enjoy the world?  Its subtle flavors escape them while they grovel in primal mud.”
    Sri Yukteswar, in Paramahansa Yogananda’s  Autobiography of a Yogi

    Flesh is the battlefield.
    Every soldier takes it to war.
    The armies marching under the cover
    Of skin are the enemies.
    Your neighbor may be the worst bag
    Of blather to carry a stick,
    But you can walk away from 
    Him.  You cannot walk away from
    That bag of guts.
    You cannot walk away from
    Those thousands of miles of blood tube.
    You cannot walk away from
    The heat and bristle of the loins.

    Your head is on straight.
    You’re a moral giant.
    You exercise bladder control.
    You spit only in the bathroom sink.
    But you’re not one of us,
    If you don’t carry around a sack of excrement.

    Every sack of bones and motley sense clown
    Learns sooner or later
    That the mind is a terrible thing
    Wasted in the slime of primal mud.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Frank Drummer”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://chicagoliteraryhof.org/inductees/profile/edgar-lee-masters
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters – Chicago Literary Hall of Fame

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Frank Drummer”

    “Frank Drummer” had high aspirations for himself but died young at age twenty-five.

    Introduction and Text of “Frank Drummer”

    The epitaph”Frank Drummer” from Edgar Lee Masters’ American classic Spoon River Anthology features a character study of a milder personality than most of the other Spoon River collection o f speakers.

    Frank Drummer

    Out of a cell into this darkened space—
    The end at twenty-five!
    My tongue could not speak what stirred within me,  
    And the village thought me a fool.
    Yet at the start there was a clear vision,
    A high and urgent purpose in my soul  
    Which drove me on trying to memorize  
    The Encyclopedia Britannica!

    Commentary on “Frank Drummer”

    Although the reader never learns to what specific goals he aspired, Frank reveals that he at least thought himself capable of achieving great things.  He demonstrates an intense emotional make-up that was likely responsible for his landing in jail.

    First Movement:  Died in Jail

    Out of a cell into this darkened space—
    The end at twenty-five!
    My tongue could not speak what stirred within me,  
    And the village thought me a fool.

    Frank reports that he died in jail and was immediately introduced to the grave, “this darkened space”—and at the young age of twenty-five.  His emotion was so strong that he could not even speak, and thus the town “thought me a fool.”  Frank, of course, sees himself as one destined for high achievement, but instead he committed some crime that brought him low.

    Second Movement:  Bright Mind Turned Dark

    Yet at the start there was a clear vision,
    A high and urgent purpose in my soul  
    Which drove me on trying to memorize  
    The Encyclopedia Britannica!

    However, early on in this life, his mind was bright and his soul possessed “[a] high and urgent purpose.”  That high purpose motivated him to try to “memorize / The Encyclopedia Britannica!”

    Frank’s evaluation of his own capabilities show that he was not tethered to reality.  He thinks that memorizing a set of encyclopedia was enough to support his contention that he was clear-minded and had “high purpose.”

  • Emily Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor”

    Emily Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor” reveals the speaker’s penetrating challenge to inherited guilt, exposing the conflict between imposed religious doctrine and the soul’s natural freedom and joy.

    Introduction and Text of “Of God we ask one favor”

    Dickinson’s “Of God we ask one favor” represents an elegant and gentle critique of religious orthodoxy. Written in a single, eight-line stanza with alternating meters, the work employs a characteristic ABCBDEFE rime scheme, leaning gently on near rime to evoke an quaint feeling of theological movement and spiritual struggling.

    Through this innovative structure, the speaker establishes an intimate dialogue with the divine, questioning the premise of original sin. By questioning the justice of some vague transgression, the speaker rejects the standard dogmas of her contemporary New England culture.

    Instead of accepting hereditary guilt, she prefers to seek truth through her own quiet meditation, unveiling the complex strain caused by a doctrine that commands humans to apologize for a crime they may not be yet able to identify.  On the literal level, the poem is a polite but intimate confrontation with an enigmatic Creator who demands repentance while keeping His creation in the dark.

    Of God we ask one favor

    Of God we ask one favor,
    That we may be forgiven —
    For what, he is presumed to know —
    The Crime, from us, is hidden —
    Immured the whole of Life
    Within a magic Prison
    We reprimand the Happiness
    That too competes with Heaven.

    Commentary on “Of God we ask one favor”

    This profound work analyzes the psychological impairment wrought by orthodox dogmas that prioritize guilt over original, natural joy, a position many hardline clergy adopted to keep the rabble in tow.

    First Movement: “Of God we ask one favor”

    Of God we ask one favor,
    That we may be forgiven

    The opening movement immediately establishes a tone of polite petition, yet it carries a sharp, underlying irony. The speaker addresses the Sovereign of the universe with a single, humble request for forgiveness.  This initial posture mimics the traditional stance of a devout believer seeking absolution from a merciful Creator.

    However, the simplicity of the request acts as a rhetorical setup for the philosophical strike that follows. In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s frequent adoption of a mask of conventional piety only to dismantle orthodox certainties from within.  By reducing the human relationship with God to “one favor,” the speaker exposes the transaction as transactional and inherently unbalanced.

    This initial petition sets a dramatic stage where the speaker pretends to seek grace while actually preparing to question the absolute justice of so-called divine law.  The request for forgiveness is presented not as a joyful redemption, but as an ongoing, exhausting obligation imposed upon humanity.

    Through this subtle opening, the speaker invites the reader to reconsider whether a relationship built solely on perpetual begging for mercy can ever lead to true, liberating spiritual fulfillment.

    Second Movement: “For what, he is presumed to know”

    For what, he is presumed to know —
    The Crime, from us, is hidden —

    In the second movement, the speaker delivers a devastating critique of original sin. By stating that the specific transgression is “hidden” from humanity, she mocks the idea of inherited, ancestral guilt.  The divine authority is “presumed” to know the nature of this mysterious infraction, yet he leaves his children in total ignorance.

    This lack of spiritual clarity breeds a deep sense of alienation and psychological imprisonment. It is impossible to truly repent for a misdeed that one cannot comprehend or remember.  The speaker points out the glaring problem of expecting a creature to beg for mercy without knowing what offense was actually committed.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s refusal to accept any theology that violates human reason and natural justice.  She exposes a deity who acts as an arbitrary judge, enforcing laws that remain hidden from those who are subject to his daily, severe rulings.

    In his writings, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that God does not wish for human beings to wander in the darkness of delusion, but rather to realize their inherent divinity.  Genuine spiritual life should be based on direct perception and soul-knowledge, rather than on blind obedience to a hidden, fearful indictment.

    Third Movement: “Immured the whole of Life”

    Immured the whole of Life
    Within a magic Prison

    The third movement introduces the brilliant, haunting image of the “magic Prison.” The speaker describes the human condition on earth as being permanently walled in or “immured” from birth until death.  This prison is deemed “magic” because its walls are invisible, constructed of theological dogmas, superstitions, and the hypnotic illusions of material existence.

    Within this confinement, humanity remains trapped, unable to experience the boundless freedom of the soul. The walls of this psychological cell are reinforced by teachings that emphasize guilt, sin, and spiritual unworthiness.  Through this metaphor, the speaker laments how organized religion turns the beautiful canvas of earthly existence into a dark, restrictive dungeon.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker views that the human mind is a complex laboratory of consciousness that can either liberate or entrap the self (soul).  When trapped by false, dogmatic beliefs, the mind easily succumbs to a paralyzing sense of spiritual exile and perpetual captivity.

    Offering a direct way out of this psychological confinement, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that the great masters are “diamond mentalities” who provide the direct exit “from the prison of limitations” to divine liberation.  Through deep meditation one can transcend this magic prison and realize the soul’s natural, ever-free state.

    Fourth Movement: “We reprimand the Happiness”

    We reprimand the Happiness
    That too competes with Heaven

    The final movement addresses the negative consequence of living inside this dogmatic, magic prison. Because humanity is taught to view itself as inherently sinful, people learn to actively suppress and “reprimand” their own natural, earthly joy.

    They fear that experiencing happiness in the present moment somehow insults or competes with the promised joys of the hereafter.  This false dichotomy between earthly pleasure and heavenly salvation forces individuals to deny the goodness of the present world.

    The speaker highlights the complex irony of a faith that requires the rejection of life’s natural blessings as a prerequisite for gaining a distant, hypothetical paradise after death.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s championing the ecstatic beauty found in the simple, immediate details of nature and human emotion.

    To deny this beauty in favor of a rigid, cold theology is to commit a true crime against the soul’s natural instincts.  Refuting the idea that true joy must be postponed or feared, Paramahansa Yogananda explains that “Divine Joy outlasts everything.”

    Instead of reprimanding happiness, humanity must realize that true, everlasting joy is its divine birthright, which it can experience here and now through direct communion with the Infinite.

  • Metaphysical Reminders

    Image created by ChatGPT/Gemini inspired by the poem
    Image created by ChatGPT/Gemini inspired by the poem

    Metaphysical Reminders

    Where that brain stores its loot
    There stands a cabin by the river,
    Where it dreamed a body too good
    For flesh and bones,
    Too good for breath and blood
    Where the clock spills stars,
    Hands that milk until honey flows,
    And a mouth that torches neck to toe.

    And as it worked itself out there
    On that bed of river mud
    Squeezing and kneading
    Lust from every pore,
    As hips pushed and crushed,
    The end of an era seemed at hand,
    And if you slept through the night,
    You would awake with the clock 
    And a note on your pillow
    Telling you to get the hell out of there—
    The river is rising.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “The Bible is an antique Volume”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Bible is an antique Volume”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Bible is an antique Volume” presents the speaker’s probing, skeptical, yet imaginative engagement with sacred narrative and its communicative power.

    Introduction and Text of “The Bible is an antique Volume”

    Emily Dickinson’s “The Bible is an antique Volume” dramatizes a speaker weighing the authority, authorship, and persuasive force of scripture. The poem unfolds as a series of compressed observations, blending irreverence with contemplative musing. Its slant rime and fragmentary cataloging mirror a mind testing inherited belief against intuitive awareness.

    The Bible is an antique Volume –

    Written by faded men
    At the suggestion of Holy Spectres –
    Subjects – Bethlehem –
    Eden – the ancient Homestead –
    Satan – the Brigadier –
    Judas – the Great Defaulter –
    David – the Troubador –
    Sin – a distinguished Precipice
    Others must resist –
    Boys that “believe” are very lonesome –
    Other Boys are “lost” –
    Had but the Tale a warbling Teller –
    All the Boys would come –
    Orpheus’ Sermon captivated –
    It did not condemn –

    Commentary on “The Bible is an antique Volume”

    The speaker investigates scriptural authority while pondering how narrative and tone shape spiritual receptivity.

    First Movement: “The Bible is an antique Volume”

    The Bible is an antique Volume –
    Written by faded men
    At the suggestion of Holy Spectres –

    The speaker opens by calling the Bible “an antique Volume,” immediately situating it within history rather than timeless immediacy. The adjective “antique” carries both reverence and distance, implying value yet suggesting obsolescence. The text becomes artifact, not living utterance, inviting contemplative musing rather than unquestioned submission.

    The past participial phrase “Written by faded men” further complicates authority. “Faded” suggests mortality, obscurity, and perhaps diminished relevance. The speaker subtly resists the notion of divine dictation, emphasizing human intermediaries whose voices have dimmed across time, thereby introducing epistemological uncertainty regarding sacred transmission.

    The prepositional phrase “At the suggestion of Holy Spectres” introduces ambiguity between divine inspiration and spectral abstraction. The term “Spectres” evokes immaterial presence, yet also ghostliness, hinting at intangibility. The speaker neither affirms nor denies divine origin but leaves it suspended between revelation and imaginative projection.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that true scripture must be inwardly realized, not merely inherited: spiritual truth must be experienced in the soul.  The speaker’s stance resonates with this principle, as she weighs external authority against internal perception.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s tendency to challenge inherited doctrines through compressed irony. Here, that strategy emerges in her speaker’s careful diction, which neither outright rejects nor fully endorses scripture but reframes it as subject to human interpretation.

    Thus the opening movement establishes tension between antiquity and immediacy, between transmitted belief and living realization. The speaker positions herself as evaluator, not disciple, engaging the sacred text through intellectual and intuitive scrutiny.

    Second Movement: “Subjects – Bethlehem”

    Subjects – Bethlehem –
    Eden – the ancient Homestead –
    Satan – the Brigadier –
    Judas – the Great Defaulter –
    David – the Troubador –
    Sin – a distinguished Precipice
    Others must resist –

    The speaker catalogs biblical figures and locales as “Subjects,” reducing vast theological narratives into concise labels. This rhetorical compression transforms sacred history into literary inventory, suggesting that meaning depends upon presentation as much as content.

    The subjects “Bethlehem” and “Eden” appear as emblematic settings, yet “the ancient Homestead” renders Eden almost domestic. The speaker recasts mythic origins into familiar terms, diminishing their grandeur while enhancing accessibility, revealing her inclination to humanize the transcendent.

    The subject “Satan – the Brigadier” reframes evil through militaristic imagery, while the subject “Judas – the Great Defaulter” employs economic language. These descriptions secularize theological figures, translating spiritual drama into social metaphors. The speaker thus exposes how narrative framing shapes moral perception.

    The subject “David – the Troubador” highlights artistry rather than kingship, emphasizing the poetic dimension of scripture. This alignment meshes with the speaker’s broader concern: the power of storytelling. The Bible becomes not only doctrine but performance, its figures recast as roles within a literary tradition.

    The subject “Sin – a distinguished Precipice” offers a striking metaphor. The designation “Distinguished” lends allure, while the term “Precipice” signals danger. The speaker captures sin’s paradoxical attraction and peril, suggesting that moral failure possesses a dramatic, almost aesthetic fascination that demands resistance.

    Paramahansa Yogananda teaches that the human mind is drawn toward both uplift and delusion, requiring discrimination.  The speaker’s phrasing reflects this duality, acknowledging the seductive edge of transgression while affirming the necessity of resistance.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinson’s poems, I have discussed the speaker’s reshaping of traditional symbols to reveal their psychological resonance. Here, biblical figures become archetypes within human consciousness rather than fixed theological entities.

    Thus this movement reframes scripture as a collection of narratives whose meaning depends upon interpretive lens. The speaker neither dismisses nor venerates but reorganizes, revealing the elasticity of sacred storytelling.

    Third Movement: “And so – upon this wise – I prayed”

    Boys that “believe” are very lonesome –
    Other Boys are “lost” –
    Had but the Tale a warbling Teller –
    All the Boys would come –
    Orpheus’ Sermon captivated –
    It did not condemn –

    The speaker shifts to the social consequences of belief.  The line “Boys that ‘believe’ are very lonesome” suggests that faith isolates, while those who reject belief are “lost.” Neither condition appears wholly desirable, revealing a tension between belonging and conviction.

    The speaker then critiques delivery rather than doctrine with the claim “Had but the Tale a warbling Teller – / All the Boys would come.” The issue lies not in content but in expression. A more melodious, inviting voice might reconcile belief and community.

    The lines “Orpheus’ Sermon captivated – / It did not condemn” introduce a classical contrast. Orpheus persuades through beauty rather than judgment. The speaker implies that aesthetic appeal and compassion succeed where moral severity fails.

    Paramahansa Yogananda emphasizes that divine truth attracts through joy and love rather than fear. The speaker’s preference for a “warbling Teller” echoes this teaching, valuing inspiration over condemnation.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s recurrent privileging of inward attraction over external coercion. Here, she suggests that spiritual teaching must harmonize with human receptivity to be effective.

    Thus the poem concludes with a subtle prescription: truth requires not only substance but song. Without beauty and gentleness, even sacred narratives risk alienation rather than illumination.

  • Rivers

    246a Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem
    Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem

    Rivers

    This climate rots the furniture.

    You look in on the riots
    and your brain engages in surgery.

    Along this flood plain
    they have built all these houses
    and you wonder.

    Riots are part of history.
    Surgeons must live too.

    You don’t believe that every year
    about this time you will be
    scooping the river out of

    your living room.

    These riots are particularly bloody.
    Rivers of blood flowing through streets
    and nobody to stop it.

    The river in your living room
    deposits sand

    and

    last year a fish.